Carry On
by Nadare
Summary: When Hank's ex-wife shows up out of the blue, the last thing he expects from her is a gift. A small fur ball of the Saint Bernard persuasion. Before too long, Hank realizes that while it may not be what he asked for, it's exactly what he needed.


_A/N: I made myself sad writing this, but absolutely loved how it turned out. Pet therapy for the win._

[Written on and off between 7-1-18 to 7-6-18]

 _Tags: Angst, Alcoholism, Feels, Hank's Past (2036), Sumo's Introduction, Pre-Canon, Original Female Character- Erin Anderson (Ex-Wife), One-Shot_

* * *

" _ **Carry On"**_

The sight of his ex-wife's car pulling into his driveway did nothing to improve Hank's mood. Nothing did. Even the liquor he drank to forget everything only dulled the pain, never really getting rid of the problem. It was a temporary solution at best, but Hank couldn't stop. Alcohol was the only thing that got him through each day.

His brow narrowed at the white cardboard container that Erin gingerly carried, holding it by two large handles situated on top. Her dark green eyes met Hank's through the window, looking tense as if Erin dreaded the moment she had to leave the car.

Hank screwed the top onto the whiskey bottle he'd been nursing and tossed it onto the couch, out of sight, not wanting to hear yet again how dependent he was on the vice.

By the time he'd made it to the door, Erin was ascending the porch, stopping in front of Hank, her expression carefully blank. Holding herself back. A restraint he sadly couldn't match very well.

It had come as no surprise when Hank had been served with divorce papers shortly after Erin had moved out. Everything had been finalized in under three months and the two had barely spoken a dozen words to each other since. What else had been left to say that hadn't already?

"Erin," he said calmly, forcing himself to play it cool.

"Hank," she replied just as casually, looking past Hank, eyes sweeping the messy interior of the house. "Can I come in, please?" He said nothing as he moved aside, Erin's long black hair brushing against his shoulder, striding into the kitchen where she sat the white box she'd been carrying down on the table.

"What've you got there?" Hank asked when Erin leaned over it, fingers deftly opening the top. She reached inside with her back to Hank, and pulled something out. The wiggling thing in his ex-wife's arms as she turned around was unexpected and not entirely welcome.

Hank shook his head with what he hoped looked like steely resolve. "No."

"Please," she implored, moving closer to Hank. "I know you're upset with me."

"'Upset?'" Hank echoed bitterly, his patience beginning to wear thin. "I have every right to be."

"I know that." Erin idly petted the small Saint Bernard lying across her arm, avoiding Hank's gaze for a moment.

"You never said why, only that we had problems that couldn't be worked out." He hadn't meant to say any of it, but it spilled out anyway.

"It didn't need to be said, Hank," Erin countered, her features starting to tighten in irritation. "It's fairly obvious."

"Just tell me the reason why you left. You owe me that at least."

"Because I couldn't stand to wallow in death any longer, Hank!" The dog barked at the loud noise and Erin looked down, scratching one of its ears before she refocused on Hank. "I lost just as much as you, but I can only grieve for so long.

"I've accepted Cole's death, and I'm trying to move past it and be happy again," Erin explained, locking eyes with Hank. "You can't." She shook her head. "No, that's not right."

Erin lightly poked a finger into Hank's chest. "You won't allow yourself to."

He stared at her, Erin's face steady, even as her eyes grew slightly wet. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be so blunt."

Hank sighed heavily, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, Erin had taken Cole's passing much better than he had. She was slowly processing the loss, taking her grief and using it to become a stronger person.

Meanwhile, Hank was floundering in a deep sea of rage, rallying at the world for all its injustices. He held onto his anger because if Hank didn't, he felt nothing but a great hollow emptiness at his core. It was a constantly hemorrhaging hole inside him he feared would never close. One that slowly sucked away anything good in his life.

Hank was tired of arguing. All it did was tire him out and Hank's energy was in short supply these days. "No, it's fine."

"Then take it," Erin insisted, thrusting the furry mutt in Hank's direction, its masked eyes bright, tongue hanging out of its mouth as it panted. "I refuse to leave until you do."

"Why is this so important to you?" Hank asked, curious why Erin had suddenly shown up after staying away so long.

"Because I worry about what'll happen once you're alone for a long time. No matter how much you try to convince yourself you're better off alone, you need companionship, Hank. No man is an island."

All the fight went out of him because Erin was right to be concerned. He was already getting pressured at work to attend counseling, but Hank would be damned if he'd air his dirty laundry in the open just to satisfy some stranger's curiosity. He preferred keeping his grief private.

Mutely, he took the dog from Erin, setting it on his lap. It peered up at him before barking once, then licked Hank's hand. Erin chuckled in the background.

"I think he likes you. I'll be right back in a minute," she said before bringing in a few tote bags, leaving them on the floor near the living room. "With this, he should be good for a few months."

"It's male, huh? Does it have a name?" It figured Erin would pick a breed that was renowned for rescuing people. Hank wondered if she had done it deliberately. He wouldn't put it past her.

"I'll leave that up to you," Erin said, kneeling down before Hank's chair. "Take good care of him, okay?" she told the dog, ruffling his head. Erin stood up, hesitating a second before gently leaning forward and kissing Hank on the cheek.

She headed for the door before pausing, glancing over her shoulder. "For what it's worth, I still think you're a good man, Hank. You're just lost."

Erin smiled. "Good luck, you two."

Hank watched as she swept through the front door, firmly shutting it behind her. The finality of the action made him think that much like their marriage, the path was forever closed to him. As for remaining friends, only time would tell on that front.

The puppy squirmed on his lap and Hank placed him on the floor, going to investigate what Erin had brought. In short order, Hank had placed in a pile near him a water and food dish, a 16-pound bag of dry food, a few chew toys, and an adjustable collar with a blank ID tag. The bare minimum required to care for a pet.

"I really hope you're potty trained," Hank said, watching the dog run amuck on his floor, sticking his face into everything and sniffing loudly. When the animal started pulling out an old hoodie from a corner, Hank lurched forward, grabbing the piece of clothing. The dog refused to let go, digging his paws into the carpet, growling underneath his breath.

Despite his determination to remain unmoved by any cute antics, Hank felt a smile pull at his lips. "What, you gonna wrestle me for it?" The puppy's eyes hardened and he pulled more firmly. Hank half-heartedly yanked, dragging the animal closer to him. He shook his head back and forth, biting more of the hoodie determinedly.

"You're not gaining much ground here. Reminds me of sumo wrestling." Hank let go of his end, feeling like he had something there. The dog flipped onto his back, the hoodie half covering him. As he wriggled his onto his feet and out from the piece of clothing, Hank snapped his fingers, catching the puppy's attention. "Sumo?"

He yipped once in apparent approval, barreling towards Hank excitedly. Eight pounds of small dog crashed into his legs and Hank chuckled as paws clawed at his pant leg. He patted Sumo on the head, willing to accept that maybe it was nice having a pet in the house. Something he didn't have to explain himself to all the time.

"Good dog." Hank left the puppy to run wild while he took in the new surroundings. Before Hank took a seat on the couch, he did take the time to put out some food and water for Sumo. Just in case.

He spread out on the couch once he saw nothing good was on TV. Too lazy to get up and go into his bedroom to sleep, Hank crossed his arms and closed his eyes. High-pitched barking woke him up and Hank stirred, groggily staring down at the dog sitting before the couch.

"What?" Sumo chuffed, peering up at him pleadingly, gaze seeming to penetrate straight into Hank's soul. He'd been determined to at least tolerate Erin's gift because it had been well-meaning, but damned if the dog wasn't making him feel bad for it. If Hank caved into Sumo's demands now, there would be no help for him later on.

Sumo whined loudly, tilting his head as if he couldn't believe he was being ignored. Hank held out as long as he could before cursing. He leaned over the side of the couch and grabbed Sumo. He dumped him onto the end of the couch and laid back down, intending to drop off to sleep again.

At the feel of soft paws climbing up his midsection, then his chest, Hank blinked in surprise when Sumo proceeded to flop onto his left shoulder, laying the back of his head alongside Hank's cheek.

It was closest he'd allowed anyone since the accident. Hank's throat went tight and he put a hand over his eyes as Sumo pressed nearer, a tiny sigh escaping the dog. If he noticed the sudden wetness against his fur and the minor shaking of Hanks's chest, Sumo gave no sign.


End file.
